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Part fiction, part autobiography.. This is the short story version I have up on Associated Content under a pseudo.
Chapter 1:
"Hello, Brian, you with us today or what?"
"Oh, sorry Tom, wasn't listening too closely. Sorry"
"You want to talk to the group today?"
"No thanks"
This was usually enough to get Tom off his back, but that wasn't always the case. For some reason, Tom wouldn't let this go some times and wanted Brian to "share" his feelings with the group. Being in a resentful mood, not wanting to be there Brian tried to say as little as possible.
"Brian, you've been coming here for over two years now. Almost 18 months longer than you were mandated by the court, isn't that correct?"
"Yeah, they told me I had to go for 6 months. Two years now huh?"
"Yep, and I think other than this banter, you've spoken half a dozen times. Why do you still come here if you aren't going to share, or participate?"
Here was the crutch of the situation. Brian couldn't explain to anyone why he kept coming back to the AA/NA meetings. He'd hardly spoken at any of the meetings, let alone look like he was paying attention. He usually took a chair in the back away from the constant blue fog of cigarette smoke and sat through almost two hours of the same stuff week after week. He saw many people come and go, many succeed in kicking their addictions, and many who fell into the abyss never to come back.
"Tell you what Tom, Next week ok?"
"What, you'll finally share next week?"
"Why not. I don't know what the hell to say, but I'll try."
"Somehow Brian, I doubt it. This is the most I've ever heard you say. Sorry if I'm being a hardass, but I think it's time you either joined in the group for real, or left it entirely."
"It's like that? After two years it's like that?"
"Yeah, if you aren't going to be helped, or help others then we could really use your seat for somebody a little more dedicated."
"I'll think about it."
Brian got up and left the meeting. This was the first and only time he ever had left before the conclusion of the meeting. Wondering what there was to do on a Tuesday night around town he decided to push his bike back into town instead of riding. It would eat up more time. Now a days, that's all he had to do anymore. Work and watch the clock tick down... and think. It was the thinking that worried him the most. The shotgun looked better and better day by day.
After the meeting let out, the rest of the group exited together in a group, everybody chatting away like they were old friends, and in a way they were. They all had some kind of addiction they were battling on a daily basis. For most it was booze, for others it was a little more serious, drugs, gambling and such. The last to leave was of course Tom. He locked the cellar doors of the church after making sure to turn out all the lights.
A maroon Chevy Cavalier pulled up near the entrance and a professional looking woman got out with her oversized purse and backpack holding all her notes and laptop.
"Am I too late Tom?"
"Yeah Kelly, he left first. Actually I wanted to talk to you about him for a second."
"Ok, but remember I have client confidentiality rules to follow."
"No it's about what I said, or did today. Brian's been coming to Saint Mary's for two years now, and I sort of lost my cool in the middle of the meeting. Thought he had fallen asleep, but he was daydreaming or something. I told him to either talk at the next meeting or don't come back."
"Ahhhh not the smoothest approach Tom, but it might work out ok. How well do you know him?"
"Not that well. He's shown up here every Tuesday night on time for two years now. He's never really said a whole lot other than hi and what not."
"Do you think he's going to call your bluff, or do you think he'll be back next week?"
"I dunno, I just hope I didn't run him off. Last thing any of these guys need is to lose one of their last peaceful places to visit with others."
"Well, I'll try again next week and I'll try to be here at the start of the meeting. Another client had a crisis today and I figured I'd catch him coming out the door."
"Aren't you worried about that though Kelly? You've never met him face to face."
"Yeah, I know. He doesn't have a phone, never responded to any of the letters I've sent, and I never seem to catch him at home. This seemed the best place to get in touch with him."
"Well, come early for the meeting. And don't dress in a suit, it'll make a few people here nervous. You look like you're a cop or something."
"Sorry, had to dress for court today. Nothing to it! I'll see you next week then." Kelly got back into the car as she was lighting up a Marlboro.
On the other side of town, Brian was peddling his bike now. The coming darkness didn't frighten him, but he wanted to put some distance between the liquor store on the corner and his failing willpower before he broke a promise to himself. It had been nearly 20 months without a drink. The first four months were sheer hell. Go a few days without, and suddenly pouring one that you never remembered buying. It was why he never went out to eat anymore. Everyone smoked and drank with their food. The only thing that disgusted Brian more than his own lack of willpower and addiction was smoking.
YUCK! Didn't those people realize how badly they smelled?
He made it home in time. Dusk had fallen, and full dark was minutes away. This was his weakest time. Running on his treadmill and wearing out his body gave him the assurance that he would be too tired to walk or ride back into town for a bottle.
Actually, this regimen of jogging, walking and riding had inadvertently given Brian the physique that many in his age would envy. For him, it was desperation, a different addiction to take his mind off the old one. He would often log in fifteen to twenty five miles a night on the worn out treadmill before the buzzing in his head would quiet down. Only then would he go upstairs, shower and then cook dinner for himself.
Two years. Tom busting his chops in front of the group today really brought home what he had. Friends? Family? Neither seemed exactly right. To him, they were "THE GROUP". He felt camaraderie that sort of felt like those, but who knows? The thought of loosing that though, made him feel all cold and clammy. It made the shotgun look all the more inviting, and shuddering, Brian put that away. There wouldn't be any stare downs with it tonight. Nope, with a resolve only a recovered alcoholic has, he decided he was going to speak at the next group. He was going to let it all out so he grabbed out his notebook and flipped to the back where there was a blank page he could tear out. Maybe Tom was an pain, but he was right. Besides, if what if he wasn't bluffing? I'll go he thought.
He made two columns. What I've lost and What I've Learned. Almost 3 hours of staring, crying, and writing produced almost a whole page handwritten. It was almost another half hour of scratching out, and rewriting until he had what he hoped had to be the most important things he wanted to share.
He got on his treadmill much later than he normally did, but that was ok. He had placated himself by writing tonight. He looked at the hateful black notebook. He had written in there for the 8 months before he had to start AA. Little things, big things, things that mattered to him and his family. Things he never wanted to forget, but now it was all he could do to keep it out of his head. And the buzzing was back again. Rats, well we know how to fix that right? Turn the radio on and keep walking. One of these days the Tigers will have a team good enough to win a world series. Probably not this year, but the next one for sure!
After about 15 miles hunger got the best of him, he ran upstairs to shower real quick and came down to cook some rice and noodles, his regular meal. He glanced at the table where he had written out his "list". Damn. He didn't want to do this but it was needed.
What I've Lost -------------------------------- What I've Learned
My son ----------------------------------------That pain never goes away
My wife ---------------------------------------Sometimes Willpower isn't enough
My House --------------------------------------Asking for help is hard
My Job -----------------------------------------Talking with strangers is terrifying
My Family -------------------------------------To forgive others, you have to forgive yourself
My Purpose ------------------------------------Addiction Sucks
My Calling -------------------------------------The buzzing will always be with an alcoholic
My Feelings ------------------------------------Non Alcoholics pretend they understand
My Identity -------------------------------------Death is the last true release?
Chapter 2:
The alarm! He smacked the off button even as he swung his legs out of bead. Damn, a hangover. His head throbbed, his throat was dry and he had that soft queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach like he had to vomit. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. There he was, Brian Carter. It wasn't a hangover after all, he thought looking at himself in the mirror. Even after so long, the symptoms plagued him almost like the nightmares. A quick shower to get him going, get the coffee brewing and he got dressed quickly.
His house was a rundown shack on the outside of Linden off Ripley. It was a two story two bedroom. In one bedroom he had bookshelves everywhere. When he had all four walls covered with bookshelves he leaned them up back to back in the center. He had thousands of books. Looking at his collection you might think him a little eclectic or eccentric because his tastes ran from religious, to fiction, philosophy, erotica, history etc. If he didn't have so many different subjects scattered together, you might almost call it a library.
Monday through Friday he would do the same thing every day. Get dressed, coffee, breakfast, ride his bike to the golf course and go to the "shed" where he and the other grounds men punched in every morning. He'd put on his coveralls, start one of the tractors, and either work on the fairways, keeping the rough areas under a foot in height, or if he was unlucky, he would have divot duty filling in all the pieces of turf the guys made by bad swings.
The work was therapeutic in a way. He would punch in, see where he was according to the roster, then go to work. The lush greenness was quiet, the golfers rarely made any noise, and at noon he would meet the guys for lunch at the shed. The lunches were almost always the same. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Brian, with a soda to wash it down. Then he would lean back and listen to the old duffers talk about their kids, grand kids, tell dirty jokes, or occasionally have a quick poker game on the scratched and scuffed laminate table somebody garbage picked on his way into work.
Today as he went in to work, the owner motioned for Brian to come over after he punched in.
"hey Brian, do you know how to run a Roto-tiller?"
"I used to use my grandfather's to help him set up his garden, but its been a while."
"Well you pull one starting cord, you've pulled them all. I wanted to see if you'd till up about a 25 foot by 15 foot patch right here behind the shed. Me and the missus are wanting to plant a garden, and we figured there was more room here."
"No problem boss, you want me to do that first thing or after I get my first round of cutting done?"
"You might as well do it first, otherwise it'll be miserably hot this afternoon."
"Ok, you got it."
And with that, Brian got started on tilling the flat area behind the shed, a nice sized area between the building and the tree line that separated the property line from the next set of houses off Ripley. Tilling a garden really wasn't that hard of work to do, you just have to be careful not to get your feet in the way, and it takes a little arm strength to keep everything on track. Other than that, the machine pulled itself along turning up the dirt as it went. Two vertical passes, and one horizontal pass and he had the ground loosened almost nine inches down.
After he was done, he parked the tiller back in the shed, gassed up his tractor and walked to the roster to see what he was doing. Green's today, alright guess the tractor wasn't needed. He loaded up the specialty push mower on an electric cart and started off.
Getting a late start on the greens made the work go slow, because Brian was waiting for somebody to clear the green before he could cut, and it never failed, there always seemed to be somebody there. None the less, it was a great day outside, 75 degrees, sunny with a slight breeze.
"I bet the girls on the beer cart are making a fortune today." He spoke aloud with a grin. There was something about golf, the course prohibited drinking during play, but at the clubhouse you could rent a cooler and buy beer. If you didn't want to lug stuff around, there was an army of girls in bikini's working on their tans and of course selling individual bottles of beer to the patrons. The girls were much younger than Brian was, but they were still fun to look at.
About quitting time, as Brian was walking up to the time clock to punch out, a woman approached him.
"Hi Brian! Sorry to meet you here like this, but I haven't been able to get a hold of you."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Kelly, I work for Consumer Services. Your P.O. gave me your work address, so I wanted to meet with you finally and let me know you've been assigned to me."
"Assigned to you for what?"
"Well, your P.O. as well as others that know you say you seem to be in a depressed state, and with your past.... Well they thought it best that I connect with you and see if you are in need of any of our services."
"What exactly is it you do? I'm still lost here."
"I'm a mental health case manager. When you were in the hospital they recorded your desire to end your life, and after your discharge they wanted a follow up. I'm here."
"You're here because of something I said nearly two years ago? You're kidding me right?"
"No, I wanted to stop into your AA meeting tomorrow, but I actually live close by and remembered from your file that you worked here. Would you mind talking to me?"
"What, now?"
"Whenever you're ready. I was thinking I could meet you here after work tomorrow and I could drive you to the AA class. I've been told you were going to speak there."
"I was, huh?"
"Well according to Tom, he is really hoping you will share. Part of the healing process is sharing."
"Well Kelly, I am not sure I want your help, and I am not sure I want to share tomorrow."
"Ok, but your P.O. said this morning that if you accept our services, consider some treatment of some sort, and share in this next AA meeting, then you could end your parole next week."
That stopped Brian dead in his tracks. Tuesday nights he went to AA, Wednesday nights he went to see his parole officer. His P.O. was a real horses butt, and the one thing in life he hated more than himself was his parole officer.
"Ok Kelly, tomorrow night then. I'll bring my notebook with me to work. It's got my stuff in there I want to try to share at the meeting."
"What did I do?" he thought as he walked to his bike and rode home, head hung low.
Chapter 3:
Getting up the next day wasn't the easiest thing to do. The phantom hangover seemed to be much worse, like little gremlins pounding a hammer against the backs of his eyes. The coffee tasted bitter, and it made the bile rise to the top of his throat. He barely made it to the bathroom in time. Every retching spell, every dry heave made the headache that much worse. The only good thing was after he took his shower he was feeling a bit better, and decided not to chicken out. "Almost forgot my notebook." He said, tucking it into the back of his pants and then climbing on his bike.
The day at the golf course went slowly, Brian dreading the end of shift. At quitting time he met Kelly at the time clock.
"Oh geez, you rode your bike here. I wasn't thinking about that. I've just got a little Cavalier."
"Hm.. Well, I can leave the bike here, and then drop me off here after the meeting. You live close to here, so I'm sure you want to get home."
"Oh yeah I can't wait." She said sarcastically. Misunderstanding her statement Brian's face showed a trace of anger.
"You don't have to take me, I don't want to inconvenience you."
"Oh geez, sorry, I meant I can hardly wait to get home to an empty house and my overprotective dog."
"You live alone?"
"Yeah, I've never been married, and I am sort of new to this area. Here, this is my car, hop in."
They made it to the meeting in almost no time flat, and even though he was irritated that she smoked cigarette after cigarette, he was grudgingly glad of her company. It has been a while since he's been in the company of a pretty lady, and one that didn't mind his silence. Man, this lady could talk a blue streak, but she did it in a way that you didn't have to answer directly. You nodded or grunted, and for a talker, she was interesting...
NO, put a stop to that , Brian thought. This is not cool and a wave of guilt washed over him. That more than anything else kept him silent and brooding about tonight. He was going to speak, he was going to share. Other than the therapists at Hurly, he hasn't talked about his problems to anybody. He was also a more than a little pissed that Tom had spoken to her. Wasn't that some sort of breach of something? Considering her field I guess it doesn't matter, he thought. As they pulled into the parking lot he thought "time for the horse and pony show. Just hope I am strong enough to do this."
The group opened up with the serenity prayer as usual, and then Tom looked over at Brian.
"You ready man?"
"Yeah, I guess so." He stood up and stretched.
"I'm Brian and I'm an alcoholic."
"Hello Brian" the entire group spoke back as one.
"I'm really nervous and scared to do this. The reasons that got me into trouble, drinking actually started back a few years ago. I used to have a wife and son, a good job, and a house to call my own. By some twist of fate, karma or whatever my son got sick. Cancer they told me, acute leukemia. Kenny was 5 when he was diagnosed, and for two years of chemo, doctors, surgeries, and blood transfusions he tried to fight it.
I spent every evening with him after work, keeping a bag of clothes with me. It was getting harder and harder to stay in the room with him. He wasn't a big kid to begin with, but by his 7th birthday he was almost gone. He lost almost half his body weight before he quit breathing one night. They weren't able to bring him back."
Tears were freely flowing down Brian's face, and he slowly walked up to the front table and sat down on the corner. Kelly walked over to him and handed him a tissue, and after blowing his nose he went on.
"The funeral was huge. My family from all over the state showed up. I really wasn't much for talking at it, and if I was paying attention to my wife, I would've seen she was having as hard of a time with this as I was. Anyways, I never knew who passed me a flask and I downed it. It numbed my brain just enough to get through the end of the funeral.
I took two weeks off from work, mainly sitting in the house, too scared to face my employees, too scared to share my feelings with my wife. She too, was quiet and withdrawn. I wish I would have seen this coming, but I don't know if the outcome would have been any different.
I wasn't back to work a week when Dawn asked me if we could try to have another child together. I burst into tears and started shouting and screaming. I guess I was too raw to even think about kids. I was a fool, I pushed her away from me, the only person I had left. I came home from work the next day and found her in the garage with the motor running."
Brian's tears were coming down full force now, and his chest was heaving at the memories trying to hold in the sobs so he could get through it.
"I just wish .... I don't know anymore. That's when I lost control. One night coming out of the bar, I lost control of the car thinking I saw a deer getting ready to jump in front of me and swerved right into the side of a truck. The lady was fine, but her daughter had a broken arm, and cuts all over her face from the flying glass."
He couldn't hold the sobs back and he started to walk almost blindly to the bathroom. He hadn't cried this hard in years, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He almost jumped out of his skin when Tom caught him under one arm, and Kelly under another and helped him get in there in time to loose his lunch.
"I'm sorry guys, this hurts bad, I don't know if I can finish."
"Brian, you don't have to, although in the end I think you'll feel better, don't you think Kelly?"
"Yes, Brian, wash your face, blow your nose and we'll all go out together. We'll help you finish."
With that he walked out into the meeting room once again. It looked as if nobody had moved, and there wasn't a single whisper, which a group of 40 seemed strange. He took a deep breath and finished by giving him his lists. What I've lost, and what I've learned. By the end of the meeting most were wiping tears from their eyes. Many walked up to Brian and gave him a hug, and told him to take it easy as they left. Not wanting to face the crowd that usually sat outside for a while he waited with Kelly in the chairs. For once she had nothing to say.
The drive back to the golf course was the quietest one he could've imagined. Kelly seemed to realized he wasn't in a mood for conversation and they drove in silence until he spoke.
"Kelly, why does it hurt so badly to cry? It feels like something broke open inside of me, and I'm wore out."
"Well, most guys aren't used to crying at all. I think it's the tough guy syndrome. When you work out for the first time, it probably makes you sore also right?"
"Yeah I guess that makes sense. Although it's not something I want to get used to. Hey, turn in here, the shed's this way."
So they drove around to the shed, and she put it in park. Darkness had fallen, the parking lot empty except her lone car in a pool of light coming from the poles above.
"Where'd you park your bike?"
"Its around the back."
She got out and walked with him towards the back corner of the shed (which seemed more like a pole barn on steroids in her opinion) and stopped dead.
"Whoa!!! What's this going to be?"
"Oh, the garden? I tilled it out for the boss; the wife and him are going to do some planting. They got more property to work with here than their big house in town."
"A garden ... Is it something that is easy to do, the tilling I mean?"
"I don't know how hard it would be for you, but it was a little bit of work for me, not too bad though. Why, you thinking of putting one in?"
"I had thought about it, but I don't have any equipment to do it with. Plants die when I even go near them, but I was hoping to grow flowers and stuff some day."
Almost impulsively Brian started thinking. This nice lady had helped him out tonight. It had hurt a lot sharing with the group. He wondered if this was some sort of cosmic joke, or once again karma at play.
"You know, if you live close by, I could probably bring the tiller over on the electric cart and do it up for you real quick."
"Not tonight! Besides you'd get in trouble."
"No, not tonight, besides I got to ask the boss."
"Well tell him I live right down the road about a mile away."
"Really?" a smile started peeking in on Brian's face.
"Yeah. How about this, I'll call you tomorrow and you tell me what he says, then we'll set something up."
"Ok, sure."
Impulsively he kissed her on the cheek, but she turned her head at the last second and their lips met. The both blushed and turned away for a second before they said good night, and the whole bike ride home he was smiling and starting to think he might get used to the smell of smoke. Something about the long brown curly hair she wore, the glasses that magnified her eyes, and an all around librarian look ........ oh no. He realized that he was feeling the stirrings of attraction. Not good, but for once he felt ok.
Maybe talking to the group was good. Maybe he could put his old life behind him and embrace his new one.
As Brian was punching in the next morning the boss was at the time clock with a smile. "who's your new lady friend?"
"Huh?"
"The brunette with legs up to her chin. The one who picked you up from work yesterday. If you tell me it's your sister..." he chuckled.
"No, just a good friend; I think." "Oh, wait a sec, could I borrow the cart and take the tiller over to her place? She wants to put in a garden."
"No problem, hope its close, because those carts don't go very far and you don't have your license yet, remember?"
"Yeah, she says she lives right down the road."
"This is the first smile I've seen since you've worked here, what am I gonna do, stand in the way of love?"
"Oh go stuff it man." They both laughed and walked off.
His whole day flew by and after lunch Kelly had called. She said she'd meet him there so he could follow her and the cart home. That way she could play blocker for the cars on the road. At 4:30 she met him in the parking lot, and the whole shed gang came out to help load the tiller.
"God, I hope this works out for Brian" the boss said.
"You see the way she was looking at him?" a crusty fellow named Phil remarked "I'd say they'll be married before the end of the night... or in bed at least."
They all laughed and said good bye. Each one of them silently cheering on a man who silently endured his pain.
Chapter 1:
"Hello, Brian, you with us today or what?"
"Oh, sorry Tom, wasn't listening too closely. Sorry"
"You want to talk to the group today?"
"No thanks"
This was usually enough to get Tom off his back, but that wasn't always the case. For some reason, Tom wouldn't let this go some times and wanted Brian to "share" his feelings with the group. Being in a resentful mood, not wanting to be there Brian tried to say as little as possible.
"Brian, you've been coming here for over two years now. Almost 18 months longer than you were mandated by the court, isn't that correct?"
"Yeah, they told me I had to go for 6 months. Two years now huh?"
"Yep, and I think other than this banter, you've spoken half a dozen times. Why do you still come here if you aren't going to share, or participate?"
Here was the crutch of the situation. Brian couldn't explain to anyone why he kept coming back to the AA/NA meetings. He'd hardly spoken at any of the meetings, let alone look like he was paying attention. He usually took a chair in the back away from the constant blue fog of cigarette smoke and sat through almost two hours of the same stuff week after week. He saw many people come and go, many succeed in kicking their addictions, and many who fell into the abyss never to come back.
"Tell you what Tom, Next week ok?"
"What, you'll finally share next week?"
"Why not. I don't know what the hell to say, but I'll try."
"Somehow Brian, I doubt it. This is the most I've ever heard you say. Sorry if I'm being a hardass, but I think it's time you either joined in the group for real, or left it entirely."
"It's like that? After two years it's like that?"
"Yeah, if you aren't going to be helped, or help others then we could really use your seat for somebody a little more dedicated."
"I'll think about it."
Brian got up and left the meeting. This was the first and only time he ever had left before the conclusion of the meeting. Wondering what there was to do on a Tuesday night around town he decided to push his bike back into town instead of riding. It would eat up more time. Now a days, that's all he had to do anymore. Work and watch the clock tick down... and think. It was the thinking that worried him the most. The shotgun looked better and better day by day.
After the meeting let out, the rest of the group exited together in a group, everybody chatting away like they were old friends, and in a way they were. They all had some kind of addiction they were battling on a daily basis. For most it was booze, for others it was a little more serious, drugs, gambling and such. The last to leave was of course Tom. He locked the cellar doors of the church after making sure to turn out all the lights.
A maroon Chevy Cavalier pulled up near the entrance and a professional looking woman got out with her oversized purse and backpack holding all her notes and laptop.
"Am I too late Tom?"
"Yeah Kelly, he left first. Actually I wanted to talk to you about him for a second."
"Ok, but remember I have client confidentiality rules to follow."
"No it's about what I said, or did today. Brian's been coming to Saint Mary's for two years now, and I sort of lost my cool in the middle of the meeting. Thought he had fallen asleep, but he was daydreaming or something. I told him to either talk at the next meeting or don't come back."
"Ahhhh not the smoothest approach Tom, but it might work out ok. How well do you know him?"
"Not that well. He's shown up here every Tuesday night on time for two years now. He's never really said a whole lot other than hi and what not."
"Do you think he's going to call your bluff, or do you think he'll be back next week?"
"I dunno, I just hope I didn't run him off. Last thing any of these guys need is to lose one of their last peaceful places to visit with others."
"Well, I'll try again next week and I'll try to be here at the start of the meeting. Another client had a crisis today and I figured I'd catch him coming out the door."
"Aren't you worried about that though Kelly? You've never met him face to face."
"Yeah, I know. He doesn't have a phone, never responded to any of the letters I've sent, and I never seem to catch him at home. This seemed the best place to get in touch with him."
"Well, come early for the meeting. And don't dress in a suit, it'll make a few people here nervous. You look like you're a cop or something."
"Sorry, had to dress for court today. Nothing to it! I'll see you next week then." Kelly got back into the car as she was lighting up a Marlboro.
On the other side of town, Brian was peddling his bike now. The coming darkness didn't frighten him, but he wanted to put some distance between the liquor store on the corner and his failing willpower before he broke a promise to himself. It had been nearly 20 months without a drink. The first four months were sheer hell. Go a few days without, and suddenly pouring one that you never remembered buying. It was why he never went out to eat anymore. Everyone smoked and drank with their food. The only thing that disgusted Brian more than his own lack of willpower and addiction was smoking.
YUCK! Didn't those people realize how badly they smelled?
He made it home in time. Dusk had fallen, and full dark was minutes away. This was his weakest time. Running on his treadmill and wearing out his body gave him the assurance that he would be too tired to walk or ride back into town for a bottle.
Actually, this regimen of jogging, walking and riding had inadvertently given Brian the physique that many in his age would envy. For him, it was desperation, a different addiction to take his mind off the old one. He would often log in fifteen to twenty five miles a night on the worn out treadmill before the buzzing in his head would quiet down. Only then would he go upstairs, shower and then cook dinner for himself.
Two years. Tom busting his chops in front of the group today really brought home what he had. Friends? Family? Neither seemed exactly right. To him, they were "THE GROUP". He felt camaraderie that sort of felt like those, but who knows? The thought of loosing that though, made him feel all cold and clammy. It made the shotgun look all the more inviting, and shuddering, Brian put that away. There wouldn't be any stare downs with it tonight. Nope, with a resolve only a recovered alcoholic has, he decided he was going to speak at the next group. He was going to let it all out so he grabbed out his notebook and flipped to the back where there was a blank page he could tear out. Maybe Tom was an pain, but he was right. Besides, if what if he wasn't bluffing? I'll go he thought.
He made two columns. What I've lost and What I've Learned. Almost 3 hours of staring, crying, and writing produced almost a whole page handwritten. It was almost another half hour of scratching out, and rewriting until he had what he hoped had to be the most important things he wanted to share.
He got on his treadmill much later than he normally did, but that was ok. He had placated himself by writing tonight. He looked at the hateful black notebook. He had written in there for the 8 months before he had to start AA. Little things, big things, things that mattered to him and his family. Things he never wanted to forget, but now it was all he could do to keep it out of his head. And the buzzing was back again. Rats, well we know how to fix that right? Turn the radio on and keep walking. One of these days the Tigers will have a team good enough to win a world series. Probably not this year, but the next one for sure!
After about 15 miles hunger got the best of him, he ran upstairs to shower real quick and came down to cook some rice and noodles, his regular meal. He glanced at the table where he had written out his "list". Damn. He didn't want to do this but it was needed.
What I've Lost -------------------------------- What I've Learned
My son ----------------------------------------That pain never goes away
My wife ---------------------------------------Sometimes Willpower isn't enough
My House --------------------------------------Asking for help is hard
My Job -----------------------------------------Talking with strangers is terrifying
My Family -------------------------------------To forgive others, you have to forgive yourself
My Purpose ------------------------------------Addiction Sucks
My Calling -------------------------------------The buzzing will always be with an alcoholic
My Feelings ------------------------------------Non Alcoholics pretend they understand
My Identity -------------------------------------Death is the last true release?
Chapter 2:
The alarm! He smacked the off button even as he swung his legs out of bead. Damn, a hangover. His head throbbed, his throat was dry and he had that soft queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach like he had to vomit. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. There he was, Brian Carter. It wasn't a hangover after all, he thought looking at himself in the mirror. Even after so long, the symptoms plagued him almost like the nightmares. A quick shower to get him going, get the coffee brewing and he got dressed quickly.
His house was a rundown shack on the outside of Linden off Ripley. It was a two story two bedroom. In one bedroom he had bookshelves everywhere. When he had all four walls covered with bookshelves he leaned them up back to back in the center. He had thousands of books. Looking at his collection you might think him a little eclectic or eccentric because his tastes ran from religious, to fiction, philosophy, erotica, history etc. If he didn't have so many different subjects scattered together, you might almost call it a library.
Monday through Friday he would do the same thing every day. Get dressed, coffee, breakfast, ride his bike to the golf course and go to the "shed" where he and the other grounds men punched in every morning. He'd put on his coveralls, start one of the tractors, and either work on the fairways, keeping the rough areas under a foot in height, or if he was unlucky, he would have divot duty filling in all the pieces of turf the guys made by bad swings.
The work was therapeutic in a way. He would punch in, see where he was according to the roster, then go to work. The lush greenness was quiet, the golfers rarely made any noise, and at noon he would meet the guys for lunch at the shed. The lunches were almost always the same. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Brian, with a soda to wash it down. Then he would lean back and listen to the old duffers talk about their kids, grand kids, tell dirty jokes, or occasionally have a quick poker game on the scratched and scuffed laminate table somebody garbage picked on his way into work.
Today as he went in to work, the owner motioned for Brian to come over after he punched in.
"hey Brian, do you know how to run a Roto-tiller?"
"I used to use my grandfather's to help him set up his garden, but its been a while."
"Well you pull one starting cord, you've pulled them all. I wanted to see if you'd till up about a 25 foot by 15 foot patch right here behind the shed. Me and the missus are wanting to plant a garden, and we figured there was more room here."
"No problem boss, you want me to do that first thing or after I get my first round of cutting done?"
"You might as well do it first, otherwise it'll be miserably hot this afternoon."
"Ok, you got it."
And with that, Brian got started on tilling the flat area behind the shed, a nice sized area between the building and the tree line that separated the property line from the next set of houses off Ripley. Tilling a garden really wasn't that hard of work to do, you just have to be careful not to get your feet in the way, and it takes a little arm strength to keep everything on track. Other than that, the machine pulled itself along turning up the dirt as it went. Two vertical passes, and one horizontal pass and he had the ground loosened almost nine inches down.
After he was done, he parked the tiller back in the shed, gassed up his tractor and walked to the roster to see what he was doing. Green's today, alright guess the tractor wasn't needed. He loaded up the specialty push mower on an electric cart and started off.
Getting a late start on the greens made the work go slow, because Brian was waiting for somebody to clear the green before he could cut, and it never failed, there always seemed to be somebody there. None the less, it was a great day outside, 75 degrees, sunny with a slight breeze.
"I bet the girls on the beer cart are making a fortune today." He spoke aloud with a grin. There was something about golf, the course prohibited drinking during play, but at the clubhouse you could rent a cooler and buy beer. If you didn't want to lug stuff around, there was an army of girls in bikini's working on their tans and of course selling individual bottles of beer to the patrons. The girls were much younger than Brian was, but they were still fun to look at.
About quitting time, as Brian was walking up to the time clock to punch out, a woman approached him.
"Hi Brian! Sorry to meet you here like this, but I haven't been able to get a hold of you."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Kelly, I work for Consumer Services. Your P.O. gave me your work address, so I wanted to meet with you finally and let me know you've been assigned to me."
"Assigned to you for what?"
"Well, your P.O. as well as others that know you say you seem to be in a depressed state, and with your past.... Well they thought it best that I connect with you and see if you are in need of any of our services."
"What exactly is it you do? I'm still lost here."
"I'm a mental health case manager. When you were in the hospital they recorded your desire to end your life, and after your discharge they wanted a follow up. I'm here."
"You're here because of something I said nearly two years ago? You're kidding me right?"
"No, I wanted to stop into your AA meeting tomorrow, but I actually live close by and remembered from your file that you worked here. Would you mind talking to me?"
"What, now?"
"Whenever you're ready. I was thinking I could meet you here after work tomorrow and I could drive you to the AA class. I've been told you were going to speak there."
"I was, huh?"
"Well according to Tom, he is really hoping you will share. Part of the healing process is sharing."
"Well Kelly, I am not sure I want your help, and I am not sure I want to share tomorrow."
"Ok, but your P.O. said this morning that if you accept our services, consider some treatment of some sort, and share in this next AA meeting, then you could end your parole next week."
That stopped Brian dead in his tracks. Tuesday nights he went to AA, Wednesday nights he went to see his parole officer. His P.O. was a real horses butt, and the one thing in life he hated more than himself was his parole officer.
"Ok Kelly, tomorrow night then. I'll bring my notebook with me to work. It's got my stuff in there I want to try to share at the meeting."
"What did I do?" he thought as he walked to his bike and rode home, head hung low.
Chapter 3:
Getting up the next day wasn't the easiest thing to do. The phantom hangover seemed to be much worse, like little gremlins pounding a hammer against the backs of his eyes. The coffee tasted bitter, and it made the bile rise to the top of his throat. He barely made it to the bathroom in time. Every retching spell, every dry heave made the headache that much worse. The only good thing was after he took his shower he was feeling a bit better, and decided not to chicken out. "Almost forgot my notebook." He said, tucking it into the back of his pants and then climbing on his bike.
The day at the golf course went slowly, Brian dreading the end of shift. At quitting time he met Kelly at the time clock.
"Oh geez, you rode your bike here. I wasn't thinking about that. I've just got a little Cavalier."
"Hm.. Well, I can leave the bike here, and then drop me off here after the meeting. You live close to here, so I'm sure you want to get home."
"Oh yeah I can't wait." She said sarcastically. Misunderstanding her statement Brian's face showed a trace of anger.
"You don't have to take me, I don't want to inconvenience you."
"Oh geez, sorry, I meant I can hardly wait to get home to an empty house and my overprotective dog."
"You live alone?"
"Yeah, I've never been married, and I am sort of new to this area. Here, this is my car, hop in."
They made it to the meeting in almost no time flat, and even though he was irritated that she smoked cigarette after cigarette, he was grudgingly glad of her company. It has been a while since he's been in the company of a pretty lady, and one that didn't mind his silence. Man, this lady could talk a blue streak, but she did it in a way that you didn't have to answer directly. You nodded or grunted, and for a talker, she was interesting...
NO, put a stop to that , Brian thought. This is not cool and a wave of guilt washed over him. That more than anything else kept him silent and brooding about tonight. He was going to speak, he was going to share. Other than the therapists at Hurly, he hasn't talked about his problems to anybody. He was also a more than a little pissed that Tom had spoken to her. Wasn't that some sort of breach of something? Considering her field I guess it doesn't matter, he thought. As they pulled into the parking lot he thought "time for the horse and pony show. Just hope I am strong enough to do this."
The group opened up with the serenity prayer as usual, and then Tom looked over at Brian.
"You ready man?"
"Yeah, I guess so." He stood up and stretched.
"I'm Brian and I'm an alcoholic."
"Hello Brian" the entire group spoke back as one.
"I'm really nervous and scared to do this. The reasons that got me into trouble, drinking actually started back a few years ago. I used to have a wife and son, a good job, and a house to call my own. By some twist of fate, karma or whatever my son got sick. Cancer they told me, acute leukemia. Kenny was 5 when he was diagnosed, and for two years of chemo, doctors, surgeries, and blood transfusions he tried to fight it.
I spent every evening with him after work, keeping a bag of clothes with me. It was getting harder and harder to stay in the room with him. He wasn't a big kid to begin with, but by his 7th birthday he was almost gone. He lost almost half his body weight before he quit breathing one night. They weren't able to bring him back."
Tears were freely flowing down Brian's face, and he slowly walked up to the front table and sat down on the corner. Kelly walked over to him and handed him a tissue, and after blowing his nose he went on.
"The funeral was huge. My family from all over the state showed up. I really wasn't much for talking at it, and if I was paying attention to my wife, I would've seen she was having as hard of a time with this as I was. Anyways, I never knew who passed me a flask and I downed it. It numbed my brain just enough to get through the end of the funeral.
I took two weeks off from work, mainly sitting in the house, too scared to face my employees, too scared to share my feelings with my wife. She too, was quiet and withdrawn. I wish I would have seen this coming, but I don't know if the outcome would have been any different.
I wasn't back to work a week when Dawn asked me if we could try to have another child together. I burst into tears and started shouting and screaming. I guess I was too raw to even think about kids. I was a fool, I pushed her away from me, the only person I had left. I came home from work the next day and found her in the garage with the motor running."
Brian's tears were coming down full force now, and his chest was heaving at the memories trying to hold in the sobs so he could get through it.
"I just wish .... I don't know anymore. That's when I lost control. One night coming out of the bar, I lost control of the car thinking I saw a deer getting ready to jump in front of me and swerved right into the side of a truck. The lady was fine, but her daughter had a broken arm, and cuts all over her face from the flying glass."
He couldn't hold the sobs back and he started to walk almost blindly to the bathroom. He hadn't cried this hard in years, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He almost jumped out of his skin when Tom caught him under one arm, and Kelly under another and helped him get in there in time to loose his lunch.
"I'm sorry guys, this hurts bad, I don't know if I can finish."
"Brian, you don't have to, although in the end I think you'll feel better, don't you think Kelly?"
"Yes, Brian, wash your face, blow your nose and we'll all go out together. We'll help you finish."
With that he walked out into the meeting room once again. It looked as if nobody had moved, and there wasn't a single whisper, which a group of 40 seemed strange. He took a deep breath and finished by giving him his lists. What I've lost, and what I've learned. By the end of the meeting most were wiping tears from their eyes. Many walked up to Brian and gave him a hug, and told him to take it easy as they left. Not wanting to face the crowd that usually sat outside for a while he waited with Kelly in the chairs. For once she had nothing to say.
The drive back to the golf course was the quietest one he could've imagined. Kelly seemed to realized he wasn't in a mood for conversation and they drove in silence until he spoke.
"Kelly, why does it hurt so badly to cry? It feels like something broke open inside of me, and I'm wore out."
"Well, most guys aren't used to crying at all. I think it's the tough guy syndrome. When you work out for the first time, it probably makes you sore also right?"
"Yeah I guess that makes sense. Although it's not something I want to get used to. Hey, turn in here, the shed's this way."
So they drove around to the shed, and she put it in park. Darkness had fallen, the parking lot empty except her lone car in a pool of light coming from the poles above.
"Where'd you park your bike?"
"Its around the back."
She got out and walked with him towards the back corner of the shed (which seemed more like a pole barn on steroids in her opinion) and stopped dead.
"Whoa!!! What's this going to be?"
"Oh, the garden? I tilled it out for the boss; the wife and him are going to do some planting. They got more property to work with here than their big house in town."
"A garden ... Is it something that is easy to do, the tilling I mean?"
"I don't know how hard it would be for you, but it was a little bit of work for me, not too bad though. Why, you thinking of putting one in?"
"I had thought about it, but I don't have any equipment to do it with. Plants die when I even go near them, but I was hoping to grow flowers and stuff some day."
Almost impulsively Brian started thinking. This nice lady had helped him out tonight. It had hurt a lot sharing with the group. He wondered if this was some sort of cosmic joke, or once again karma at play.
"You know, if you live close by, I could probably bring the tiller over on the electric cart and do it up for you real quick."
"Not tonight! Besides you'd get in trouble."
"No, not tonight, besides I got to ask the boss."
"Well tell him I live right down the road about a mile away."
"Really?" a smile started peeking in on Brian's face.
"Yeah. How about this, I'll call you tomorrow and you tell me what he says, then we'll set something up."
"Ok, sure."
Impulsively he kissed her on the cheek, but she turned her head at the last second and their lips met. The both blushed and turned away for a second before they said good night, and the whole bike ride home he was smiling and starting to think he might get used to the smell of smoke. Something about the long brown curly hair she wore, the glasses that magnified her eyes, and an all around librarian look ........ oh no. He realized that he was feeling the stirrings of attraction. Not good, but for once he felt ok.
Maybe talking to the group was good. Maybe he could put his old life behind him and embrace his new one.
As Brian was punching in the next morning the boss was at the time clock with a smile. "who's your new lady friend?"
"Huh?"
"The brunette with legs up to her chin. The one who picked you up from work yesterday. If you tell me it's your sister..." he chuckled.
"No, just a good friend; I think." "Oh, wait a sec, could I borrow the cart and take the tiller over to her place? She wants to put in a garden."
"No problem, hope its close, because those carts don't go very far and you don't have your license yet, remember?"
"Yeah, she says she lives right down the road."
"This is the first smile I've seen since you've worked here, what am I gonna do, stand in the way of love?"
"Oh go stuff it man." They both laughed and walked off.
His whole day flew by and after lunch Kelly had called. She said she'd meet him there so he could follow her and the cart home. That way she could play blocker for the cars on the road. At 4:30 she met him in the parking lot, and the whole shed gang came out to help load the tiller.
"God, I hope this works out for Brian" the boss said.
"You see the way she was looking at him?" a crusty fellow named Phil remarked "I'd say they'll be married before the end of the night... or in bed at least."
They all laughed and said good bye. Each one of them silently cheering on a man who silently endured his pain.
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